To have choice
by yetanotherside
Summary: Agron has left for the arena to rescue Crixus and Nasir has a lot to think about after that kiss.


**A/N: **The story takes place between _Spartacus: Vengeance – Episode 5: Libertus _and_ Episode 6: Chosen Path_. I borrowed some original lines (in italics) and the dialogue at the end.

* * *

**To have choice**

_This time you stay and I go._

The words echoed in Nasir's head, along with unspoken wishes of him returning alive and well. Agron had smiled at him, warmly and reassuringly. Nasir barely had had the time to register the hand in his neck when he felt the kiss, trapping all words he might have said inside. The touch upon his lips had been soft but determined. Agron had not lingered or said anything to explain himself and it had confused Nasir to no end. He must have looked the feeling for Agron had searched his face for a moment as if waiting for a reply. All words had fled him but his lips had broken into something of a smile. It was not only the kiss that he could not forget but the expression in Agron's eyes, as if he had wanted to promise to continue this. The next moment he had been gone and Nasir alone again.

Ever since, the sun had sunk more than once but neither sleep nor real rest would come. From time to time Nasir just collapsed from exhaustion, much to the dismay of Naevia who still took care of him while recovering from his wound. Everything and anything resurfaced in his mind and he had a hard time bringing order to his thoughts. This kiss … it had been unexpected but not unwelcome. Far from it actually. It had fulfilled a secret wish hardly admitted to himself and however brief it had been it could not be mistaken for anything but a display of affection. Though how deep this affection ran Nasir could not tell with certainty. There was no denying that they had grown close to each other. Chadara had made remarks about it some time ago. She had made insinuations and he had not known what to say, he remembered her words though: _You would do yourself well to pursue desire. I would myself, if I believed he favoured me._ Did Agron favour him? Was that the promise in his eyes? More importantly, did Nasir have desires to pursue? He struggled with the thought.

He had not considered his own wishes, his own _desires_ in he did not know how long. A time before the collar around his neck was barely more than hazy memories. He could not just shrug off Tiberius and be Nasir again. He did not even remember the boy Nasir but for a few rather foggy images: of a brother calling his name, someone wrapping him in loving embrace, someone laughing or crying, of being whisked away. All of his other memories were of his life as Tiberius. The first years had been little more than being beaten and starved and beaten again and again, wiping out the child he had been. This had ended when a new master had bought him and shown him kindness: his wounds had been tended to; new beatings had been less severe. The boy had grown up into a young man of 14 or 15 years – he did not know, nobody had had interest in keeping count – when Dominus had first reached under his garments to grab his cock. He had praised his beauty, his fair skin and silken hair. It had been clear to him then why Dominus had taken care never to leave permanent marks when he had punished him. Dominus had pushed him down and ordered to be pleasured. Nasir – no, it had been Tiberius then – had fallen to command even though at that time he had not known how.

There were not many things Nasir remembered as clearly as this moment not even the pain that had followed afterwards. The start of his life as a real body slave though was most vividly present in his mind: the hard floor beneath his knees, the hands in his hair and on his shoulders, the taste on his tongue that for a long time nothing could erase. Thinking about it now Nasir was surprised how quickly he had grown accustomed to everything. He long had learned to try and please with every step and breath. As body slave only the tasks had been different. Whether Dominus had desired to have Tiberius' cock inside him or the other way around, whether he had been ordered to tend to Dominus' need or one of his friends, whether he scrubbed floors or his master's body had not mattered to him. He had followed all orders swiftly and obediently and risen to a valued position and relative comfort.

That had been his life: satisfying desires without knowing his own, pleasuring without feeling pleasure or at least not seeking it. He had felt arousal and the satisfaction of release, lust even. He had welcomed those sensations when they had come but he had never asked for more, had not thought about himself. No, that was not true he now realized, everything had mattered but he had locked his feelings away, had pushed them deep down so that they could not betray him and earn punishment. It had been forbidden to show disgust over unwanted touch and he had never been in the position to refuse. He had swallowed every protest, every sound of discomfort and every opinion that had differed from his master's. Only now that he did not have to anymore, he began to comprehend how much Rome had robbed him of.

* * *

And now he had a choice; a choice to take up a sword and fight and to speak his mind. He could choose to pursue his desires. Would that he knew what they were. Every day since his liberation he had seen others satisfy whatever urge they had felt more or less on the spot. Even now he could hear the passionate coupling. Nasir had not felt the need and neither had Agron, as he had not failed to notice. And Agron touched a lot: hands on shoulders in approval, slaps on back and punches dealt in jest, celebratory embraces. Not once, however, had he seen him exchange more than friendly touches. He did not even realize the smile upon his face until Naevia stepped to his side.

"You think of pleasant things," she remarked.

"Yes. No." He sighed. "Both maybe."

Naevia smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Speak and see mind relieved of troubling thoughts."

"I …" Nasir did not know where to start. He could not tell her about Agron, about his confusion. Words were not to be found. "How many times has sun risen since departure?" he finally asked.

"Four times." The strain in Naevia's voice was clearly audible. She had most likely counted the hours. Just looking at her Nasir could see all her worries and the guilt she felt for having needed to be rescued. She had no reason to of course, it never had been her fault but that did not lessen her feelings. He had given up trying to convince her otherwise but it pained him to see her that way.

"If the Gods are kind you will not see it rise another time absent your heart," he tried to give a little comfort.

"And yours."

"Mine?" Immediately his mind jumped back to Agron. The gladiator from lands east of the Rhine. He travelled back to smiles and looks bestowed on him by the German. Even thinking about them made Nasir's heart flutter unreasonably.

"Agron," Naevia answered with a soft laugh. "Affections do not remain unnoticed. Not yours … or his."

"His?" Nasir recalled the way Agron had said his name four days past when leaving his sickbed to join the yet unknown mission. There had been something in his voice he still could not quite place. Joy maybe beyond friendship. The hand on his cheek had certainly felt this way. He remembered past glances and expressions but did not know if wishful thinking did not exaggerate their meaning.

"He kissed you," she reminded him and Nasir fell silent. Agron _had_ kissed him, there was no denying that. He had looked into his eyes with these wonderful light ones of his and there had been something in them that should have given Nasir a warning to what was to come had he not been so unprepared. Nasir had to admit to himself that he had wished for it in secret but he had not expected to have the wish fulfilled.

"It was but friendly sentiment," he answered at last, not wanting to speak about it any longer.

Naevia furrowed her brow for a moment and shook her head. "Come, your bandages need changing." She led the way back inside and gently tended to his wound. She was clearly pleased it had not broken open again and Nasir shared the feeling. If the fucking wound would only heal more quickly.

"Gratitude."

She nodded and pushed him back down when he instantly tried to get up. "Rest," she commanded. "Rest and know this: Agron has not left bedside when you battled the fever but when summoned by Spartacus. He has slept little and done everything to further healing." She gave him a last smile and Nasir was alone with his thoughts again.

* * *

_This time you stay and I go._

"I stayed and pray to Gods for safe return," he whispered. _Fuck the Gods!_ Agron's teasing voice in his head. Agron had been the first to ask his name, the first to know of his brother. It had been in reply to Spartacus when he had revealed his true name but it had been Agron to whom Nasir had looked when doing so. Somehow even then he had sought the German's approval. It was apparent that Agron in turn valued his company too. He sought him out when eating and frequently trained with him. But all could be friendship, bonding as brothers.

He could not rest, not with thoughts of Agron on his mind. _He is of a form, is he not?_ Chadara's words once again came to his mind. Nasir thought of the way Agron's body moved when fighting, the tight grip around the gladius' hilt, the muscles tensing and relaxing in quick succession. More than once Nasir had reacted too slowly while admiring the gladiator. In his dreams he frequently found himself discovering Agron's body with fingers and lips and tongue, not just with eyes but up until that kiss he had refused to pay attention to those dreams. He had to admit that it had not stopped them from coming, not that he had actually tried to suppress them. He preferred them to the nightmares of being choked and beaten and touched by a thousand foreign hands, to dreams where he still wore a collar and his own blood dripped to the floor.

He paced restlessly until eventually he sank to the bed and had to give in to his exhaustion. He dreamt about a time when a master had called him Tiberius and Agron suggested killing him for making an attempt on Spartacus' life. He woke wearier than ever to the sound of an agitated rebel camp. Nasir almost jumped up earning him a few seconds of blackening dizziness before he felt able to walk outside on steady feet. He heard Agron before he saw him.

"The arena is burned to the fucking ground! With many Romans among the ashes!"

It was a relief to spot him standing tall and seemingly unscratched. Nasir's face broke into a wide smile. He knew in that moment that there was no confusion of feelings. There was no denying how much he longed to hold the other man, how much he _desired_ to touch and be touched in return. The problem was not what he was feeling but that he did not know what to do with these emotions, how to properly acknowledge them and make them known to the man who occupied the majority of his thoughts and dreams. Both Naevia and Chadara had hinted at affections Agron held for him. He had to remind himself that he had a choice. A choice to pursue his heart's desire and pursue he fucking would.

"You suffer no wound?" Agron turned when hearing his voice and his smile was instantly mirrored in Nasir's face. The gladiator approached him, locking eyes and it was all Nasir could do not to rush into his arms.

"The Gods favour me, little man."

"Call me that again ... and they shall turn from you."

A laugh escaped his throat and then their lips found each other and Agron's hands were on his neck and he caressed the other man's cheek. They fell into it, no awkwardness or insecurity between them. Nasir felt blissfully happy. Whatever the Gods still had planned for them, tonight at last sleep would come easily.


End file.
